


Shelter from the Storm

by methylviolet10b



Category: Basil of Baker Street - All Media Types, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7382014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawson does his best with what he can. Written for JWP #3: A Cardboard Box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter from the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: A random snippet from some mousely adventure. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

  
It had been the narrowest of escapes. The desperate leap from the lorry had saved us from certain death at the claws and fangs of the feline assassins sent after us – well, after Basil; I was a mere extra snack in their eyes – but our survival was still in doubt. We were stranded in the bleakest, most blasted bit of heath it had ever been my mousefortune to see. No trees, no buildings; nothing but featureless scrub and the empty road, quickly disappearing under a heavy coating of snow.  
  
Basil shivered against me. He was still half-stunned from the fall, and the biting wind and wretched cold was affecting his slim frame more quickly. I had to find shelter for us both, and soon, or the assassins would succeed in their mission after all. I staggered onwards, supporting most of Basil’s weight despite my wrenched leg and the intermittent spikes of pain from my sprained tail.  
  
We hadn’t gone far when I spied an unusually straight line jutting out halfway up the bank on one side of the road. It wasn’t much, just an old cardboard box that must have blown free from some human vehicle at some point. It had wedged firmly between two bits of gorse, and was covered with snow. Only the strange, unnatural shape hinted at its existence. A dark gap at one end hinted at a way inside. I debated leaving Basil and investigating myself, just in case it already had an inhabitant, but I was afraid that my friend might wander off in his dazed state.  
  
Fortunately it was empty, and was still sound enough to provide some shelter from the snowstorm rapidly engulfing the countryside.  I led Basil to the warmest corner, furthest away from the rip that had provided us entry. The ground was dry, and I gathered together what withered grasses I could to help insulate us from the cold along with our own coats and the wet, but still warm, wool clothing we both wore. Most unusually, Basil made no attempt to assist me. He merely sat staring, with only the occasional blink of his dulled eyes showing that he was still conscious after a fashion.  
  
At last I had done all that I could do with my scant resources and increasingly-painful injuries. I coaxed Basil down into our crude nest and curled around and over him as best as I could. I was determined to get and keep him as warm as I could, no matter what the cost.  
  
“D-dawson?” Basil murmured once, as the light visible through the gap started to fade as night and the storm closed in.  
  
“Sh-h. Yes, my dear mouse, I am here. Rest now,” I coaxed in my best doctor-mouse voice.  
  
Basil sighed and said nothing more. Wearily, I closed my eyes. Either we would wake in the morning, or the cold would take us. There was nothing more I could do.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 3, 2016


End file.
